13. Thea
Thea
The Weakest Witch Workout Plan
Zair shows up in the nook around five.
“Hey,” I greet without looking up, not wanting to lose my place.
“Why didn’t you come?” he asks, sitting down beside me.
“Come where?” I grab my phone. Nothing.
“To the game.” I look at him. His hair is still wet like he just came from the shower. “I invited you last night.”
“You did?” He looks at me as I try to remember. “You told me you had a game so you wouldn’t come for your bag until late.”
He smacks his hand to his forehead.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
I purse my lips as I try to figure it out. But draw a blank. Ten minutes later, his phone starts ringing.
“I don’t think you’re getting out of it,” I tell him.
“I know. See you tomorrow?”
“Goodnight.”
The next morning, I add my eighth tally to the wall.
I’m glad I’d switched into Combat Magic.
The first week kicked my ass, but it was amazing.
Coach kept throwing challenges at me, probably trying to get me to quit.
And sure, I got a busted lip and some bruises along the way, but to me, those felt like small victories.
Little does Coach know, a broken bone would barely register as a minor injury to me anymore.
It feels good to use my body again. It wasn’t this body, but months trapped in a dungeon have made me antsy. I need to move.
“Alright, listen up!” Coach’s booming voice cuts through the air, and the class falls silent. “Today, we’re going to focus on combining physical combat with your magic. Pair up.”
Excitement competes with the certainty that I’m going to fail. But I’m here, and I’m determined. As the students begin pairing off, I make my way to the front to check in with Coach and see what he has in store for me today.
“You came back.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” I give him my biggest smile.
“Well, if you’re set on sticking around, we’ll need to find someone to teach you the basics.” He starts scanning the room for someone to pair me with.
“I’ll help her.”
Mavrik approaches us and Coach raises an eyebrow. “You?” he asks, looking Mavrik up and down as if assessing him for the first time.
“I’m not exactly a combat expert, but I know enough. We’re partners in Misfits, our gifts are… similar.” Coach studies him for a moment longer before nodding.
“You’re talented, it’s just you don’t normally get involved. But I’m sure you’ll do a great job. Especially if you two work together in other classes as well.”
Mavrik simply nods in acknowledgment and Coach turns his attention to the rest of the class. I’m a little taken aback by Mavrik’s offer. This is the third time he’s offered to help me. Add in him saving me with the shadows — I need to focus, not think about if he could be Lazlo.
“Thanks, Mavrik,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, masking the slight hesitation I feel.
“No problem,” he replies quietly. His attention shifts to the center of the room where the rest of the class is already starting their drills. “Let’s get you caught up.”
He takes his place across from me, his posture poised and focused.
“Alright,” he begins, taking a deep breath.
“Combat magic isn’t just about spells and punching.
It’s about control, timing, and energy flow.
You need to connect with your magic and feel it in your movements.
Most witches have shields similar to their gifts, but since you don’t seem to know what your magic is yet, why don’t you focus on making a shield and see what it comes as? ”
I nod, trying to clear my mind. The idea of merging my magic with my physical movements feels intimidating, but I’m determined to try.
“Take a deep breath and picture yourself blocking an attack, throwing your arm up,” he tells me.
I steady myself, feeling the earth beneath my feet, trying to ground myself.
I focus on my breath, drawing in energy, letting it settle.
As I focus on my center, I raise my arm in front of me, envisioning the shield forming.
Slowly, a glowing white shield forms. I stare at it in awe.
“That’s beautiful, Thea,” Mavrik says, the amazement seeping into his voice. I’m about to agree when it disappears.
I focus again, feeling the magic swirl in my chest, trying to guide it. Slowly, the shield grows more stable, though still dancing like a flame in the wind that refuses to go out. I feel the barrier solidify a little more, the edges curling and shifting. Each time I call it, it’s a little better.
“Good,” Mavrik says. “You’ve got the idea. Now, keep practicing. The more you connect your movements to your magic, the more control you’ll have.”
I exhale a slow breath, feeling a small sense of achievement. “Thanks, Mavrik. This actually feels like it’s working.”
I feel footsteps before I hear them approaching.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Adora,” Ethan’s voice drips with mockery. “Crawling back to me.” I hadn’t even realized he was in this class.
“The name is Thea,” I correct. “The only thing I’d crawl back to you for is a laugh.”
“Whatever you call yourself, you’re still the weakest witch around.” In the past, I might’ve let it slide, but not today.
“Weakest witch?” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “Funny, because I don’t remember you being anywhere near as strong as you think you are.”
His smirk fades. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mavrik’s quiet voice cuts through the tension. “Careful, Ethan. You’re walking a fine line.”
Ethan glares at Mavrik, clearly irritated. “Oh, look, Mavrik’s got a soft spot for my leftovers now,” he taunts. “She’s a lost cause, Mavrik. Just a pathetic little witch pretending she belongs here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been pretending to be something worthwhile for so long, you almost believe it yourself.”
Ethan’s confidence stumbles as he quickly switches tactics. “You think you can just sign up for a combat class? You have no strength.”
“Pretty sure I did. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to learn. Something you know nothing about.” I turn to Mavrik, ready to resume.
“Okay, leftovers. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Ethan says. With a grunt, he sends a surge of magic hurtling toward me.
My body moves faster than my mind, instincts taking over. I raise my hand and a shield of blinding light forms between us. The energy ricochets off and slams into his chest. The force sends him flying backward into the wall with a sickening thud.
Ethan groans, clutching his chest in disbelief. “What the hell, Adora?” he yells, his embarrassment causing his voice to rise. “I didn’t mean for this to turn into—”
“—My name is Thea,” I cut him off. “You should’ve thought about that before you attacked my back.”
Ethan stands, brushing himself off with exaggerated care, making sure everyone in the room is watching. “Great. Make me the bad guy? I’m trying to help you get better, and you launch me across the room?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm.
Coach runs over, silencing him with a sharp look. “I thought better of you, Ethan. This is her first time learning shielding, and your response is to attack?”
Ethan shrinks, the brash confidence fading from his face as Coach’s gaze presses down on him.
“Fine,” he mutters. “But you can’t expect me to just stand there while she takes a free shot at me.”
Coach exhales slowly, a deep breath heavy with disappointment. “She hit you with your own ‘free shot.’” He leads Ethan away, and I turn to Mavrik.
“Well, I think you’ve got shielding down,” Mavrik says. There’s a small, almost hesitant smile on his face. “Shall we move on to some basic offensive work?”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” a familiar voice cuts in. Zair’s grin is easy and his eyes sparkle with mischief. “And here I thought you were the quiet type. Now you’re throwing people into walls. Guess I was wrong.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. “You think I’m quiet? Who do you normally hang out with, the dead?”
Zair’s grin stretches wider, and he leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The dead boring.”
A snort escapes me that sets Zair off laughing. His gaze shifts toward Mavrik, who’s standing eerily still. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes seem to focus on a spot over my shoulder. His shadows swarm around him as if trying to help him disappear into the background.
“Mavrik,” he says casually. “You must be a good teacher if she’s already making Ethan eat dirt. Not that it’s a feat, but still.”
Mavrik blinks, clearly startled by the direct attention. “Er, thanks?”
“Hey, credit where it’s due,” he says with an easy smile. “My partner got roped into helping Bernard today, so I thought I’d hang around. I’d offer to help Thea myself, but…” He glances at me, then back at Mavrik. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got this teaching thing locked down. Mind if I join in?”
Mavrik hesitates, eyes darting between us, unsure if he’s being humored or tested. But after a beat, he gives a stiff nod.
“Great.” Zair claps his hands together, the sound loud and cheerful. “So, Thea, let’s see those offensive moves. Impress us.”
“All I have to do is try and touch you and you’ll run scared,” I challenge. Wiggling my fingers maniacally. Zair lets out a loud laugh before pulling on a set of training mitts.
We start practicing and Zair finds subtle ways to keep the atmosphere light, peppering the session with jokes and small, encouraging comments.
Mavrik’s instructions remain precise, though his tone softens as time passes, as if Zair’s easygoing energy is gradually wearing down his sharp edges.
After throwing a ridiculously off-target punch, I groan in aggravation, my arms dropping to my sides.
“Let me know if you need directions to where your punch was supposed to land,” Mavrik deadpans.
Zair bursts out laughing, doubling over dramatically as if the comment physically knocked him over.
“That was savage,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach between laughs.
I narrow my eyes at both of them, my cheeks heating. “I’d like to see either of you do better on your first day.”
I throw another punch.
It doesn’t hit anything.